Love Is Easy
by Teumessian
Summary: When Harry and Dougie are left to their own devices to get to know each other while Tom and Danny go on vacation, Harry is quick to learn anything he can about Dougie Poynter. You might even say he discovers a passion for learning.


**Love is Easy**

Harry Judd learned quickly. I mean, he was no genius, but he wasn't stupid, you know? He noticed things and remembered them – tried at least.

And Harry learned lots of things about Dougie Poynter in a nearly empty house—two new members of McFLY alone together for the first time, their other bandmates off gallivanting through the world on their own adventure.

Harry and Dougie's adventure was on a much smaller scale, but still definitely a type of adventure, Harry thought.

The first thing Harry learned about Dougie, he learned the moment they were introduced. Dougie was to be the next person to audition for the last spot in the band, McFLY, standing beside his own mum. Harry didn't know it then, but he could have already guessed that the kid was going to freeze up during auditions. I mean, it was obvious. Not only was he nervous, but he looked thirteen.

The kid was all spiky blond hair, blue eyes, flushed cheeks and tanned skin. He wasn't scrawny, but his muscle was about as lean as muscle could get while still existing. He was shorter than Harry and obviously hadn't hit his second growth spurt yet. He wore a tank top that was too big for him, which only amplified the image. Though, Harry honestly couldn't tell if the thing was overlarge by design or if there just weren't clothes that fit Dougie's tiny body.

"Christ, how old are you?" Harry couldn't help but blurt.

Luckily, Dougie didn't seem offended by Harry's inquiry.

"I'm sixteen," the blond teen said, hands buried in his pockets with a lopsided smile on his face, and Harry didn't notice the way his mum's eyes flicked towards him for a moment.

"Bollocks," Harry's mouth moved of its own accord again. This kid could _not _be sixteen. "You're a baby."

The smile dropped from Dougie's face and he scowled, ears turning red and looking away from Harry. His mum looked unhappy. He cursed internally. Why was he such a fucking idiot? Can't say shit like that to strangers. What if this guy got in? He was going to hate Harry. His _mum_ was going to hate Harry.

I mean there was nothing _wrong _with the kid's age, and Harry's nan would have hit him upside the head for being so rude.

And at seventeen it's not like Harry was much older, but come on.

Dougie was a baby, but that was only the beginning.

After moving in together, the first thing Harry learned about Dougie was that he was a bottomless pit. The boy could eat all day and still ask for seconds at dinner.

"I'm hungry," Dougie mumbled, setting down the Xbox controller and pushing up from the couch.

Harry looked up from where he was laid out, wedged in the other corner, legs sprawled out in front of him.

"We had lunch under an hour ago, Dougie," Harry chided, brow furrowed.

"I'm hungry again," he stated simply and Harry watched his back as he disappeared into the kitchen.

He returned a few minutes later with a bag of chips, a sleeve of crackers, a box of _dry cereal_, cheese, a soda, and a water bottle held precariously in his mouth by its cap.

Harry was caught between amusement at the sight and irritation that at this rate, they were going to have to go shopping again before the end of the week.

"Dougie, what the hell?"

Dougie all but spit the bottle at Dougie, as his hands were occupied. It bounced against Harry's knees with a crinkle and a dull thud.

"I couldn't decide!" Dougie said, dumping the armfuls of food onto the coffee table.

"So you brought the whole kitchen?" Harry asked.

Dougie ignored him in favor of flopping back onto the couch, throwing a leg over Harry's feet, opening the bag of chips. He grabbed a big handful before leaning back.

"You're going to get _fat_," Harry said, half smile working its way onto his face in spite of his disapproval.

Dougie didn't even look at him, even though Harry was watching him closely.

"You're going to get fat," Dougie murmured petulantly and shoved the chips into his mouth.

The entire bag was gone before nightfall.

Dougie had been a little reserved towards Harry after he'd made a bit of an ass of himself at Dougie's audition. After that the drummer had made a point to show that he was an okay guy (tried to be) under his dickish, sarcastic sense of humor. Actually, Dougie was taking to him like a fish to water, and Harry to him, and a tenor of relaxation and budding friendship settled over the house, all developing habits and routines.

It was when Harry was going to wake Dougie up for a morning workout session they'd agreed upon the previous night that Harry learned that Dougie was _not _a morning person.

Harry had his days, but usually he didn't have too much trouble getting out of bed at a reasonable hour. This was not the case for Dougie.

Harry knocked on the door respectfully first; didn't want to walk in on the guy.

"Dougie?" Harry tried, when there was no response.

"Doouugiiee," Harry said again, drawing out his name.

There was a muffled grunt and rustle, but nothing to indicate someone was up and getting ready for the day. More like someone was resisting getting out of bed.

Harry opened the door and poked his head in. He was met with the sight of a small, duvet wrapped lump on the bed with a shock of blond hair poking out. The bed was surrounded by the usual clutter, instruments, and Dougie's surprising collection of reptiles. They weren't really Harry's thing, but sometimes he tolerated Zukie, Dougie's favorite bearded dragon, to sit on his chest when they listened to music in Dougie's room.

"Dougie…?"

The bassist just rolled onto his back and away. Harry would have been frustrated, but the limp way Dougie was moving made Harry think his resistance wasn't even conscious. Harry wasn't even sure Dougie was actually awake at _all_.

Dougie's foot was poking out from under his covers now and his face was visible above the blankets, smooth and relaxed. His hair was an absolute mess, and a rush of affection for the younger boy welled up in Harry's chest.

Dougie was freaking adorable. Harry fought the urge to go find a camera.

A huge grin broke out on his face as he began to move further into the room.

"Oh, _Dougie_, it's time to wake up," Hare started again in a sing-songy voice. "_Dougie… Dougie."_

The boy's face crumpled up in displeasure or just confusion, Harry wasn't sure. And as unhappy as Dougie was to wake up, Harry was as happy to be the one doing the waking.

"Dougie…!" Harry whisper-shouted, finally reaching out to pat the bassist's cheek; it was sleep warm and a bit scratchy with pale, downy scruff.

There was a pause, a wrinkled nose, and finally two slits of blue gazing up at Harry.

The eyes were utterly empty.

If possibly Harry smiled even wider.

In the morning, Dougie Poynter was not a human being; he was a zombie.

"Good morning, Dougie!" Harry greeted brightly.

Dougie had peach fuzz, spotty, pale scruff, when they'd moved into the band house, but as the days passed, and Dougie began scratching at it in obvious discomfort, Harry decided things were getting out of hand.

"Just shave, Dougie," Harry finally said, as they were messing around in Dougie's room with some guitars and Dougie had to stop to itch his chin for the fourth time in five minutes.

They'd started hanging out in Dougie's room more and more. Harry didn't know why, considering it was the smallest bedroom in the house, but they did end up in here an awful lot. Maybe it was because Harry came in to wake Dougie every morning now, and he didn't always win that fight. And then Dougie would start begging for food and, for some reason, Harry was pretty bad at denying Dougie, so he'd fetch breakfast, and later lunch, and then it was six o'clock and they never really left Dougie's room, but spent the day screwing around and listening to music.

Either way, they were in Dougie's room a lot, as they were now.

Dougie didn't respond to Harry's comment, and continued to pluck the strings of the acoustic guitar in his hands, but rubbed his chin against his shoulders thirty seconds later.

"What, Dougie? Are you trying to grow a beard?" Harry asked, brow pinched. "No offense, mate, but I don't think you've achieved the necessary density."

Dougie definitely had some scruff, but it was nearly invisible and patchy as hell.

"I'm not tryin' to grow a beard," Dougie said, still not looking at Harry, but then paused his strumming, like he was making a decision, before looking up earnestly. "I don't know how to shave. I've never done it before."

Harry knew his eyes were wide.

"My dad… he, uh, left, you know, before," Dougie continued, and his sentence didn't have much substance but Harry knew what he meant.

Harry's stomach twisted uncomfortably. Harry knew Dougie's home life hadn't been picture perfect, but so far the teen hadn't gone into it much. Harry understood completely now. His own dad had taught him when Harry was fourteen, but Harry was well _hairy_. It made perfect sense that Dougie lacked education in this area.

Harry's next course of action was obvious, really. He put down the six-string he'd been fiddling with and got up.

"Well, come on then," Harry said.

Dougie looked up at him, blue eyes confused—still troubled, too.

"I'll show you," Harry explained with a smile. "Can't have your baby face getting all mountain-man, now, can we?"

A little smile bloomed on Dougie's face as he put down his own instrument and moved to follow Harry.

Five minutes later found them in front of the bathroom mirror with a sink full of warm water, two razors and a bottle of shaving cream. Dougie scowling into the mirror a bit, because he was nervous about the new task or his obvious preoccupation with his absent father, Harry didn't know.

"Right then, let's get started," Harry pulled him back.

Harry walked him through the process from wetting his face and applying shaving cream, to cutting with the grain, using himself as an example. Before long silence settled over them as Harry worked efficiently to get the two day old stubble off his face, and Dougie worked at a much slower pace, movements shaky and unpracticed.

The silence was punctuated by Dougie's curses whenever he'd cut himself.

"_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_" Dougie shouted, as another nick appeared along his jaw line and he had to press another bit of toilet paper there to stop the bleeding.

He glared at himself in the mirror and then Harry.

"I hate it! Why's it got to hurt so much?! Tiny stupid cuts, feels like someone set an angry cat on my face… An' why aren't you bleedin' all over," Dougie complained in a long string, as Harry set his razor down, finished, and picked up a washcloth to wipe away the excess shaving cream on his face.

Dougie's face was still half coated. Harry chuckled.

"You just don't have any practice, Dougie," Harry said, but noted the absolutely defeated look on Dougie's face. "But I guess that's enough practice for now. Give it here, Dougie."

Harry reached out his hand for Dougie's razor. The bassist didn't even hesitate before handing it over. It made a bit of a warm glow blossom in Harry's chest at the obvious trust he'd earned from Dougie.

Harry rinsed the razor and nodded towards the counter, indicating to Dougie, who turned and pushed himself up to sit on the edge, letting his hands rest limply in his lap. He spread his knees to accommodate Harry when the drummer moved to stand in front of him.

Harry was gentle and careful as he slowly slid the razor over his bandmate's skin, not wanting to cause any more damage than the he'd already inflicted upon himself. Dougie was very quiet, but Harry could almost hear his brain thrashing around in his skull.

"So… When did he leave?" Harry asked, as he gently tipped Dougie's head back with his fingers on his cheek bone, thumb pressed against Dougie's chin.

It didn't do good to keep your thoughts all locked up in your head. They'd eat you alive. Harry didn't know if he'd overstepped, but in for a penny in for a buck. Harry thought Dougie wouldn't answer, but he didn't even hesitate.

"The day before Richard called me in for my audition," Dougie said, simply. "Bit strange, yeah?"

Harry's insides felt like jelly in the worst way. He wasn't sure what to say, but it seemed like once Dougie started he couldn't stop.

"Like… It was so out of the blue, you know? We weren't that _bad,_ but then he just up and left. Left a letter, saying that he couldn't do it anymore and I just… Maybe if I'd been better he'd have…"

And on Dougie went. He didn't stop once and Harry didn't interrupt once, just shaved slowly, not wanting to break the moment.

"You know what he said when I got the first email? You know the one where I didn't get in? I was so upset, crying like a kid and he asked what's wrong and I told 'im and he told me it only made sense I didn't get in, because I wasn't good enough," Dougie said, staring at the ceiling as Harry wiped the shaving cream off his cheeks with a cool rag.

His eyes were glassy and his lip was trembling just a bit. Harry let him be for a second, not speaking until he was sure Dougie was finished for now.

"Well…" Harry began as he dried Dougie's face, "Sounds to me… Like your dad could be a right dick."

Dougie's eyes flashed down to Harry's and he didn't look away, let him see that Harry had been really listening. Suddenly a bright smile sprung onto Dougie's face and a giggle worked its way out of his throat.

"Yeah," was all he said in response.

Harry stepped away so Dougie could hop down off the counter and turn to look at himself in the mirror, running his palms over his newly smooth skin.

"Here," Harry said, pulling his aftershave out of the drawer and handing it to Dougie. "Put some of this on so you don't get razor burn, we'll pick some you like up at the store when we go next."

Dougie looked at the bottle for a second, before putting a bit in a palm and rubbing it into his cheeks.

"Thanks, Harry," he said, looking at himself in the mirror, with a smile.

"Of course, Dougie."

Harry learned two things that day.

One: Dougie's dad is a piece of shit, who he'd gladly punch in the jaw one day.

Two: Smelling his aftershave on Dougie for the rest of the day definitely did funny things to his insides.

It didn't take very long at all for Harry to learn that Dougie was weird as hell.

Sometimes, rarely, there were days when Harry didn't see much of Dougie at all, either because he was visiting his family, or he was closed up in his room, only appearing every few hours from his room for food. Those days were okay, as Harry spent them filling the house with the booming sound of his drums, idly wonder if he could ever play hard or loud enough to shake the house off its foundation.

One day, Harry only saw Dougie twice, but felt content hearing him padding around his room, occasionally hearing the explosion of music, when whatever song he was listening to couldn't be done justice by headphones. It was comforting.

However, it was getting late and the noises had stopped a while ago and it was all thunder and pounding rain against the roof of the house. The storm had come out of nowhere and Harry figured it was time for bed.

He climbed the stairs and brushed his teeth before walking down the hall to his bedroom, but when he opened the door it was not as empty as he expected. Harry walked forward.

It was dark, and there was a definite lump in his bed under the covers.

"Dougie, what are you doing in my bed?"

Two gleeful blue eyes and a flash of white teeth were Harry's only answer at first, then he nuzzled his face into Harry's pillow and snuggled deeper into the bedclothes.

"Your bed is way more comfortable and it's stormy—let me stay, Harry," he said, smile still in place.

Harry was confused, but also what could be expected from Dougie? He raised an eyebrow. With the look of glee on his face, Harry had a hard time believing he was really scared, but then there was a flash and a boom and sure enough Dougie flinched—but then started laughing, like his own fear amused him to no end. Weirdo.

Dougie looked up at him, and sensing his indecision and slow processing of the situation, made a highly exaggerated pouty face and opened his eyes wide. Harry finally cracked a smile and laughed.

"If you say so, Dougie," he said, moving to pull the covers back to crawl into his bed, that was definitely not meant for two people. "Budge up."

Dougie shifted so Harry could just barely fit.

"If you're gonna stay in my bed, you have to be my teddy bear, though." Harry said, with a giddy smile.

Harry had noticed early on that Dougie rarely initiated physical contact, and was awkward at best when he was forced, too. After hearing about his dad, and suspecting he didn't have the warmest childhood, Harry took it upon himself to rectify this and touch Dougie as much as possible. It was a community service really, but that didn't mean Harry couldn't enjoy it a bit.

"Ahrrg! N-o!"

Dougie tried to fight Harry as the drummer basically fell on top of him, wrapping his arms and legs around him, like an octopus. Harry pulled him close and tucked him forcefully under his chin, despite Dougie's protests and pushing hands.

"Mmmm…! I have the best teddy bear," Harry teased, as he dramatically rubbed his cheek against Dougie's hair.

"No! No! No!" Dougie said, but he was giggling in spite of himself.

Harry only let go when Dougie finally stopped fighting.

"See? It's not so hard!" Harry said, smile-sore muscles in his cheeks relaxing, as he extracted himself from Dougie, letting him flop onto his back.

Harry let one arm remain tossed over Dougie's collarbones, as he rolled onto his stomach. They quieted and Harry felt sleep creeping up on him.

"Mmm… Good teddy" Harry murmured, before he dropped off.

Dougie didn't respond, but when Harry split an eye open and glanced at Dougie's face, lit by the display on Harry's speakers, he swore he saw the bassist's lip twitch.

When Harry woke up the next morning, he was greeted with the sight of Dougie's face turned towards him, peaceful in sleep. Harry knew he wouldn't be up for a few hours at least, so he let himself indulge just a bit, and watched Dougie breathe for a while. It should be weird. The whole thing should have, since he entered his room last night, but he wasn't even bothered by the fact that his arm was slung over Dougie's hips and Dougie's fingers were curled loosely in Harry's t-shirt. But it wasn't weird. It just was, and Harry felt good.

And if after that Harry occasionally came to his room to find Dougie there for whatever reason, it was fine. Or if they were hanging in Dougie's room and Dougie asked him not to go, then Harry didn't.

Dougie was weird as hell, but apparently Harry wasn't much different.

Now it wasn't surprising in a house occupied by two virile boys with ever growing disregard for boundaries that certain… Accidents were going to happen.

One such accident led Harry to his next discovery about Dougie.

Dougie masturbated a lot.

"Dougie…" Harry barely called as he absently pushed the door to Dougie's room open, slowly as his eyes were down, re-reading the text he'd just received from Tom.

Tom and Danny were sending Dougie and Harry periodic updates about what the boys at home had taken to calling their "Big Gay Global Adventure". Harry had just come up to let Dougie know the latest news.

"Dou—"

Harry started to mumble the boy's name again, as he looked up and his then his voice just curled up and died in his throat.

Pink.

Harry saw pink.

Pink skin.

Pink blush on Dougie's cheeks.

Pink flush on Dougie's chest.

And bright pink briefs bunched up half way down Dougie's thighs.

Harry's mouth was immediately dessert-dry, jaw hanging a little loose from his skull.

Dougie's hand was wrapped around his own cock, and by the pace and his current movements, it had already been there for quite a while. Dougie's eyes were closed, and his headphones were covering his ears, which explained why he hadn't heard Harry come in.

For half a second, some floating part of Harry's brain wondered what kind of music Dougie listened to while wanking.

His long eyelashes were splayed across his cheekbones and his lips were parted to let his heavy breath in and out. His teeth occasionally bit down, making his mouth shiny and red.

His hips, and painfully sharp hipbones, rocked up into his own hand, and the muscles into his abdomen twitched and tensed with the motion.

Harry should have left the second he walked in here. Why was he still here? Why couldn't take his eyes off his… Well, what was fast becoming his best friend.

Dougie's pace sped up and he seemed to become more desperate, cock appearing and disappearing into his hand more quickly. And when he ran his thumb over the tip, something that sounded like a cross between a whine and a moan leaked out of Dougie's throat.

"Nnn-ah!"

The sound hit Harry like a punch to the gut.

"Holy shit!" Harry couldn't help but blurt, voice two octaves higher than normal.

Dougie's eyes snapped open and if possible his face got even _redder _than it had been previously.

"Ohmygod! S-sorry, mate!" Harry stuttered, looking everywhere but Dougie, as he fled the bassist's room, slamming the door behind him, not stopping until he found himself down the stairs and face down on the couch.

His erection pressed uncomfortably into his fly, a friendly reminder that he may be completely fucked.

And, yes, 'a lot of masturbating' is a large assertion based on walking in on Dougie once.

Except that wasn't the last time.

Because, apparently, Harry's life sucked like that sometimes.

"Dougie?" Harry called up the stairs.

Harry hadn't seen him since morning and when he found the boy's room empty, except for the number of lizards that always inhabited it, he was pretty sure he knew where to find Dougie.

He padded up the stairs to the third floor, where Tom's room was located. Dougie had recently taken up a bit of a smoking habit, so it wasn't unusual to find him perched on the railing of the balcony that connected to Tom's room, sending lazy trails of smoke up to meet the clouds.

Looking back, Harry should have been more concerned about their health, but they were kids and they were in a band, for Christ's sake. Smoking just made sense.

Harry opened the door and Dougie greeted him with a smile, glowing cigarette between his fingers. Dougie sat on the railing, with his back against the house, looking out at the houses and buildings. It was twilight, and the clouds were turning purple above the roofs surrounding them.

"Hello, mate," Harry said, crossing over so he could lean against the railing himself.

"Hello, Harry," Dougie said, relaxed smile still on his face.

"Tom texted," Harry informed. "Danny got food poisoning so they've had to hole up for a bit."

Dougie laughed.

"I bet Danny ate something he shouldn't have," Dougie said.

"Too much local cuisine," Harry giggled back and then glanced at the cigarette in Dougie's hand. "You got another one of those?"

Harry didn't smoke regularly, but he enjoyed it at parties, and now that Dougie had been doing it more, so had Harry.

Dougie shook his head, ungelled hair flopping against his forehead.

"Last one, sorry, mate." Dougie said, pressing his lips together.

Harry shrugged. It wasn't important, but then, Dougie made a thoughtful noise.

"Hey, hey!" he said, excitedly, "I could shotgun you, like we saw at the party last weekend."

Harry ignored the way his stomach swooped violently at the thought. They'd been at a party last weekend and a group of kids smoking weed had managed to get smoke around an entire four person circle. He would admit it was pretty impressive.

This, however, Harry wasn't sure this was the _best _idea.

"Why don't you just give me a drag off your cigarette, Dougie," Harry suggested.

Unfortunately, when Dougie got an idea in his head, he could be surprisingly stubborn about it.

"No, no! I wanna try it," Dougie said, head bobbing excitedly.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"_Fine_, Dougie," Harry gave in, ignoring the fact that he probably could have put up a much better fight than he did.

If possible, Dougie's face lit up even more and Harry decided already that it was well worth his acquiescence.

Dougie let his feet drop off the rail, so he could lean forward, bracing himself with one hand, cigarette in the other. Harry's heart was beating too hard in his chest as Dougie took a deep drag off of the cigarette, end turning cherry hot. Dougie held his breath, as he took the cigarette away from his mouth, hand coming up to Harry's face, which was schooled very carefully into a mask of impassivity. Harry could feel the filter of the cigarette against his cheek where it was still held in Dougie's fingers, but mostly he just felt Dougie's air chilled palm on his jaw.

Dougie leaned in and—Jesus Chirst—in any other circumstance it would have looked just like he was coming in for a kiss, but then he stopped just millimeters away from Harry's lips. He could feel the distance like it was filled with static.

Harry waited until he felt the hot dryness of the smoke, before inhaling. Harry pulled in the smoke, filled his lungs. It was a heady thought when he realized that he was taking something into his body that had resided in Dougie's, not a few seconds previously.

Somewhere in the exchange, someone had moved and their lips bumped together just a bit, so Harry could clearly feel when Dougie finally exhausted the smoke in his lungs and slowly pulled away.

The smile was plastered back on his face.

Harry held the smoke until Dougie raised his eyebrows, obviously waiting to see if they'd been successful.

Harry was still leaning against his elbows on the railing, so he tipped his head back, pursed his lips and took his turn to exhale. The smoke blew out in a stream that blossomed a ways out, before dissipating into the dusky air. Harry made sure to hold eye contact with Dougie the whole time.

Dougie's pupils blew out, Harry had no doubt, and his pink tongue came out to wet the chapped lips that had stuck tackily Harry's not a minute previously. Harry wondered if Dougie could taste him there.

Then Dougie laughed and blinked hard. He looked giddy.

"Damn it, mate, well done!" he said, and then glanced at his cigarette, still burning slow in his fingers. "Now you do me!"

Dougie moved to hand Harry the glowing cigarette, and that's when it hit Harry.

Dougie _fancied _him, and he was a shameless flirt.

The only problem with all this, however, was that while now Harry realized Dougie fancied him, _Dougie_ had no idea.

"No, Dougie! No more jammie dodgers!" Harry complained, as Dougie ducked under Harry's grab for the box of biscuits. "Every time we have them in the house, it's all you eat and then you get sick."

"No, get off! I want them," Dougie complained, trying to bite Harry's limbs when they came too close to his face.

Somehow, Dougie still ended up with a box in his basket when they reached the queue.

As uncomfortable as Dougie was with physical affection when they were home alone (which he was getting much better at), he was twice as bad in front of other people.

Which naturally meant that Harry had to be an obnoxiously little shit about it. Especially when bored standing in a queue. Drummers didn't do well in the patience area.

"Oh, come on, Dougie. Give me a hug," Harry said, trying to get his arms properly around the smaller boy, despite the hands pressing into his chest.

He fought it for a good while, but Harry was more persistent and, as always, Dougie finally went limp and allowed Harry to pull him close and rub his face into Dougie's hair. With a little jolt, Harry smelled his own aftershave. He'd noticed that a lot lately. Dougie had his own aftershave now, but it wasn't at all uncommon for Harry to catch the scent of his own on Dougie's body.

It still did funny things to him.

"See? It's not so hard, Dougie," Harry said, swaying them back and forth.

Harry let go when it was their turn to move up in the queue. They bought their groceries from an attractive young woman, who was all smiles at them. Harry would have thought she was into them, if not for her question.

"How long have you two been together?" she asked, warmly.

Harry's own eyes went wide, but Dougie was a stuttering mess, face flushed bright red.

"Oh—we—we're not, I mean—we don't," Dougie stuttered, not making any eye contact. "Definitely not."

Harry hated the way his heart clenched painfully. The shop lady looked a little embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just thought…" she apologized.

Harry smiled and paid for their groceries, overly conscious of how awkwardly Dougie was shifting behind him.

"It's fine," Harry assured her.

They left quickly and neither one of them really said anything for a while, but Dougie quickly relaxed and things went back to normal, Harry nudging Dougie in the ribs as they walk to the bassist's giggles.

It was all good, except for the residual bitter taste in Harry's mouth, left in the wake of Dougie rushed denials.

The biggest problem with Dougie's crush on Harry, was that it paled in comparison to the feelings bouncing around in Harry's chest.

Eight.

That's how many of Tom's Disney movies Harry had watched since Dougie left on Friday to stay with his family for the weekend.

It wasn't uncommon for either of them to make day trips to go see their family, but this was the _entire weekend,_ and if Harry didn't know any better, he'd say he was fucking _pining. _He'd forced himself to go out on Friday night, but he'd been distracted the whole night and ended coming home early, with a little too much ale in his bloodstream.

The rest of it had been spent on the couch in front of movies that Tom had made sure each and every one of them had seen upon moving into the house. He could pick out which songs were Dougie's favorite, which characters were most like Dougie, which songs Dougie would sound best singing.

Harry could almost hear Dougie's voice in his head when Thumper started in on, "If you don't have anything nice to say…" Dougie had done the most ridiculous voice for him when they'd all watched it together.

Harry moaned and buried his face in the pillow.

He was fucking hopeless.

After Bambi, Harry tried the Lion King, hoping Dougie would be home before nightfall at least. He wasn't disappointed.

Maybe Harry was too focused on the movie, or really on his on his own pathetic situation, but he didn't hear the front door open, so he was justifiably startled when half way through a line, the song went stereo.

"_Till we find our plaaaaace…! On this path unwindiiiing…!"_

Harry rolled and he felt his face light up when he saw Dougie, arms thrown out behind the couch, belting out the Lion King.

"Dougie!"

"_It's the ciiiiiiircle! The circle of liiiiiife!"_ Dougie finished before acknowledging Harry, but then he looked down at the drummer with a big smile on his face. "Hello, mate."

On one of Harry's many whims, he rolled forward so he could wrap his arms around Dougie's waist and pull him over the back of the couch and on top of him. Dougie protested, but it was feeble at best, as it always was when they were alone.

"Shush, watch the movie, Dougie."

Dougie settled with his head on Harry's chest, body covering Harry's like a slightly too small blanket, not that he was complaining. It was so easy like this; Harry could feel Dougie's heart beating against his chest. If he glanced down he could see the sleepy and contented smile on the sixteen year old's face. Harry knew if anyone but Tom and Danny walked in now, Dougie would bolt away from him like he was a live wire, but for a second, Harry let himself not care about that and just enjoy the moment.

"How's your family?" Harry asked, as Simba tried to wake Mufasa.

Harry sympathized; it was about as easy to wake Dougie.

"They're doing well. My uncle was home," Dougie said and Harry could feel his smile.

They chatted a bit about their weekends and eventually they got up to go make pop corn. Even though they sat up now, their legs were still completely tangled together between them, like they couldn't be totally comfortable unless they were touching each other. The popcorn eventually became a series of projectiles they'd be picking out of the couch for weeks.

There was a particularly memorable moment, when they reached Dougie's favorite part of the movie, and Harry was coerced into singing.

Well sort of.

"_LUAU!_" Dougie screeched. "_If you're hungry for a hunk of fat and juicy meat, eat my buddie, Pumba, here 'cuz he is a treat! A hundred dollar dine, a tasty swine, all you gotta do is get in line!"_

He was slapping Harry's knees as he threw his head back for the next part. Harry's grin was splitting his face.

"_Are ya achin'?"_ Dougie sung.

"_Yup, yup, yup!_" Harry replied, in a low voice.

"_For some bacon!?_"

"_Yup, yup, yup!_"

Dougie jumped to his feet , bouncing on the couch for the finale.

"_He's a big pig! You can be a big pig too! Oy!_"

And on the 'oy', he tumbled down, right onto Harry, covering him in limbs.

"Oof!" Harry complained. "_You're _a big pig."

Harry poked him in the ribs and stomach, delighting when Dougie convulsed, shocked laugh escaping him. Dougie was apparently very ticklish.

Harry spent the next fully exploiting this newfound weakness.

A chorus of giggling and hooting accompanied the loss of another hand of cards by Dougie Poynter and, in correspondence, the loss of another piece of clothing from Dougie's body. Usually, this would have done with a large amount of reluctance and embarrassment from the bassist, but he was currently far too intoxicated to do anything more than blush as he clumsily removed his trousers, bumping into Harry at least three times in the process.

One had to be pretty smashed to even decide to start playing strip poker, but since the handful of guys and gals had settled in, they'd consumed as much alcohol again. Harry had managed to cut himself off a little while ago, but Dougie was _hammered_, and if he hadn't luckily decided to wear a beanie and two jackets today, he'd also be naked.

But because Dougie _was _lucky, he instead sat in his boxers and undershirt, precariously holding a hand of cards. He'd given up on smoking a few hands back, because while there was definitely a sex factor to Dougie letting the cig' hang from his lips as he studied his cards like an old school gambler, in his current state there would have been a very real chance of Dougie burning their friend's, John, house to the ground.

"Aha-ha-ha! You girlies better get ready for a show if Mr. Poynter here keeps playing," their friend Eddie crowed, as he dealt the next hand.

"A show of _what_?" one of the girls, Ellie, laughed, poking Dougie's skinny wrists.

Harry felt an angry flush and wanted to bat her hands away, but Dougie handled it on his own with a giggle and a backward shuffle out of her reach, ignoring the insult. His nose and ears were red with the booze, as were his cheeks, which made him look like a happy little kid playing in the snow.

"What?" Dougie's voice was like an electric shock.

Harry hadn't even realized he'd been staring and, maybe, he was drunker than he'd thought.

"Nothing, mate," Harry said, with a reassuring smile.

The smile he received from Dougie in return, alcohol heavy eyes and all, was breath taking. Harry forced himself to look down at his cards and deftly decided to throw this hand to save some of Dougie's dignity, as he still retained most of his clothes.

Dougie managed to lose in spite of Harry's efforts.

With a deep sigh but no hesitation, Dougie pulled his white undershit over his head, exposing everything from the pale flat of his stomach to the slope of his shoulders, to the pink perk of his nipples. One day, Dougie was going to have a body that men envied; Harry had seen him in the gym so of that he was sure.

Drunk and excitable, their friends converged on the young musician.

"Christ, Dougie!" a freckly boy named Charlie shouted. "You're so skinny, you could be a girl!"

"Pretty enough to be one too," Ellie teased, sliding up into Dougie's space, and stroking his cheek as the other people in their circle started to poke and ruffle and tease Dougie.

As much as he'd like to, Harry couldn't really _blame _them for their actions. They were drunk and there was just something about Dougie that made you want to manhandle him. Luckily for Harry, Dougie didn't seem particularly interested in being manhandled by their friends. Laughing and complaining, he moved to escape and, in the process, fell backwards and right into Harry.

"Oof!" Harry grunted, as he caught Dougie's body.

Then blue eyes looked up at him and a big smile split Dougie's face. He stopped squirming away and instead, started wriggling in what seemed like an attempt to get closer.

"Harry."

"Hello, Dougie," Harry chuckled.

"They won't leave me alone," Dougie said and turned to bury his face into Harry's stomach at an awkward angle.

Harry laughed along with the other teenagers.

"Don't worry, Dougie. I'll protect you" Harry said, with mock seriousness that Dougie may have missed.

"Mmm, Harry, you're my favorite" Dougie said, with a dopey smile and another wiggle, arms tightening from where they were raised up around Harry's neck.

"Everyone knows that, kiddo" John teased, toeing Dougie's knee and making him kick out in retaliation and scoot even further back into Harry.

Then Dougie curled in on himself, basically in Harry's lap.

"Uhg, don't feel well" Dougie moaned, and there was the clatter of most of the group retreating. "Wanna go home."

"Okay, mate," Harry said simply, reaching over to grab their clothes—he wouldn't be sad to leave the party.

"Harry, you find gettin' him home?" John asked.

"Yeah, mate," Harry said, righting the woozy bassist.

"Don't let him puke in the house," John called, as he disappeared around the corner.

Dougie half hearted threw the bird in his direction.

"M'not gonna puke," Dougie tried to assure Harry, though he felt less than convinced.

"Course not, Dougie," Harry said, pulling Dougie's overshirt over his head.

Harry got one jacket on, and then the other. Dougie got his trousers on by himself, while Harry put on the couple of his own articles of clothing. He noticed Dougie's beanie on the floor and scooped it up.

"C'mere, Dougie," Harry said, gently pulling him over so he could pull the cap over Dougie's blond hair. Dougie laughed and tried to push his head into Harry's hands, while making contented noises.

Then two sets of blue eyes met and Harry froze; it was a cliché, but really, when had they got so close? Dougie couldn't be more than inches away from his face, and he was staring at him, hands on Harry's still raised wrists. He looked like he was waiting for something. Like he was waiting for Harry to kiss him. It was a disorienting thought.

_Sweet sixteen and never been kissed_, the old saying floated through his mind, unbidden.

Not that Dougie had never been kissed; Harry was sure he had on a number of occasions, but that was hardly the point. There was something… Innocent about Dougie. Something that made you want to care for him. Something that Harry was absolutely terrified to break.

Suddenly, Dougie's eyes went out of focus and he turned white as a sheet.

"Oh, shit!" Harry cursed, immediately recognizing the look.

They managed to make it out to the yard, before Dougie started violently evacuating the contents of his stomach. Harry held him up as he heaved, hands gripped in Dougie's jackets, leaning heavily into Harry as his knees were buckling. And Harry didn't even feel a little resentful about it.

Which led Harry to his second realization of the night.

Dougie Poynter was his best mate—strange, funny, shy Dougie Poynter.

Only best mates could take care of each other while heaving and not have any negative feelings about it. All Harry felt was a deep throb of sympathy in his gut for poor sick Dougie. The thought was even more stunning than the realization of Dougie's innocence.

And as Harry rubbed soothing circles into Dougie's back, the realizations let him to a frustrating and sad conclusion.

Finally Dougie stopped retching.

"You ready to go home, mate?" Harry asked softly, and Dougie nodded meekly.

Once they got home, Dougie was a little more coherent, but it was obvious he still felt sick as a dog. Dougie brushed his teeth and stripped down on his own, while Harry brought him a bottle of water and an emergency bucket, in case he got ill again.

"Thanks, Harry," Dougie said, and then he looked up at Harry pitifully. "Don't leave me alone. I'll die. Sleep next to me, Harry."

The pathetic and genuine pout on his face was just too much, so Harry stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and crawled into the side of the bed closest to the wall, just in case Dougie had any more episodes during the night.

Harry settled to lie on his back, Dougie curled into a comma on his side, next to him. They weren't cuddling, but Harry did soothingly pet Dougie's soft blond hair, not envying the headache he was surely going to have in the morning. Dougie let out a soft, grateful sigh and Harry stared at the ceiling, reflecting on the lesson he learned that night.

Dougie was not just young, but he was Harry's best mate, and because of that… Harry could never be with Dougie.

"_I'll sing along… Yeah, with every emergency._"

Harry lay with his head on his hands on his single bed, blaring horns of Less Than Jake's new album filling the room. Dougie lay rolling subtly back and forth to the music, tucked into the space below Harry's arm. This wasn't an unusual afternoon for either of them. Relaxing, laid out on one of their beds with music pouring from their speakers.

They slowly progressed through the album, moving from quiet listening, to head bobbing, to Dougie's starting to sing, while Harry mouthed the words silently. By the time they reached the Surrender cover at the end of the album, Dougie was riled up.

When he recognized the song, he leapt to his feet, jostling Harry dangerously close to the edge of his twin bed.

"_Mommy's alright! Daddy's alright!_" Dougie half sung, half shouted, jumping up and down, making wild gestures with his arms. "_They just seem a little weird!_"

"Get down, Dougie!" Harry shouted, afraid the idiot was going to fall and crack his head open.

Of course Dougie didn't listen and just started to poke Harry in the ribs with his toes, making ridiculous faces to go with the lyrics.

"_Surrender! Surrender! Don't give yourself away—ay—ay—ay!"_

Harry started to try and pull him back down, as Dougie clumsily tried to avoid him, laughter now mixing in with the lyrics.

Dougie managed to dodge Harry for most of the song, but his dramatic streak was his downfall. He threw out his arms and dropped back his head to belt out the last lyrics.

Harry grabbed his hip and knee, tugging, sending Dougie down utterly gracelessly, landing right on top of Harry. He struggled at first, trying to escape again, getting their legs tangled. Harry using one to hold Dougie down, one hand holding Dougie's left bicep, other arm around his back.

The smell of Dougie's shampoo filled his nose as Dougie's product free hair fell into Harry's face, as the younger boy made a final escape attempt before he went limp.

And his face was mere centimeters from Harry's. The horns in the intro of _Science_ filled the room as the CD restarted, but still neither boy moved. Harry could have counted every single one of Dougie's downcast eyelashes if he'd wanted to, because not only was Dougie unbearably close, but his eyes were locked onto Harry's lips. There was nowhere to go, lying on the bed with a slim body holding him down. It was suddenly Harry who was trapped, tables turned, no way to escape.

Maybe Harry could have tried a little harder, though, what with knowing full well what was going to happen seconds before Dougie let his head drop.

Dougie had nice lips… So warm, soft… Such an chaste kiss.

Then before his brain could even catch up, he was pushing Dougie off him. He couldn't. He wasn't supposed to.

Harry realized he'd made a mistake instantly. The look on Dougie's face pretty much ripped Harry's chest open and poured acid inside. It burned through his veins and reached his heart in seconds.

"I—I thought…" Dougie was stuttering, eyes filled with a world-ending mix of shame, shock, and _hurt_.

_I hurt Dougie_. The thought exploded violently in Harry's brain.

He wanted to die in that moment.

"Doug—"

But then he was gone, up and out the door before Harry could even finish his name.

Harry was on his feet to follow, even as the gravity of his royal fuck-up settled over him and tried to drag him through the floor.

"Dougie!"

He heard the slam of Dougie's door, before he could even get around the corner.

"_Fuck!_" Harry cursed, as he was forced to skid to a stop.

Harry could hear the bassist's distressed breathing through the door, and it was easy to picture Dougie sitting against the door, arms around his knees, effectively blocking Harry from entering. The knowledge that he may have made _Dougie _cry was nearly too much to bear.

Tom would kick his ass.

Harry would let him.

He had to make this right—now.

"Dougie… Just listen to me" Harry tried, speaking through the door.

"Please, just leave, Harry," Dougie said, voice wrecked, making it feel like large shards of glass were dancing in Harry's stomach. "I get it—you don't—"

"No, Dougie," Harry cut him off, feeling hitting his fist against the door. "You don't—just let me explain. I freaked out, I fucked up, but not for the reason you think, mate. You're younger than me and I just—I want you to be happy, right? And you're my best mate, okay? I didn't think I could… _Not_ somehow fuck that, you, up, okay? And, obviously, right now is a perfect example of me doing just that."

Harry knew he was rambling and his eyes were shut tight where his mouth wasn't, forehead grinding against the door and still Dougie was silent on the other side and Harry'd never felt so lost and desperate in his life.

"And I _love _you, Dougie, you know I do, and I thought you fancied me, too, but then you freaked out in the shop and when the checkout lady thought we... So then I was sure you didn't—not the way I—"

The words died completely in Harry's dry mouth as he heard the thud-rustle-click of Dougie scrambling to his feet and wrenching the door open violently, almost sending Harry falling on his face.

"What did you say?" Dougie demanded.

His eyes were wide and too bright, like a rabbit about that would flee if Harry made one move in the wrong direction. Harry chose his words carefully.

"I didn't think you really fancied me?" Harry tried, but Dougie was already shaking his head.

"No, before that."

Harry stood straighter, cocking his head to the side, rewinding through his babble.

"That I… Loved you?"

Dougie nearly flinched.

"Did you mean it?" he asked, hand still clenched tightly around the door knob, wide eyes fixed on the taller boy standing in his doorway.

Harry actually had to laugh a little.

"Love you? Of course, Dougie," Harry assured.

Dougie paused, obviously thinking hard.

"Love like 'you're my best mate' love, or like," Dougie stopped, and then motioned over his entire pelvic region. "_Love._"

Harry found himself chuckling again. He couldn't help it. He was an idiot, but Dougie was just being silly.

"Well of course to the first, but I definitely," he mimicked Dougie's ridiculous crotch gesture. "_Love_ you too."

There was silence.

"Oh," Dougie said, hand finally dropping to his side. "Really?"

With that, Harry knew it was over. It was going to be okay. It felt like he could breathe again and Harry couldn't stop the grin from bubbling up onto his face, already moving towards Dougie.

He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He'd been the one making this so hard—complicating it with his stupid over thinking brain. This was effortless, this was easy—it was near fucking flawless.

"Of course. Anyone could have told you that, you wanker," Harry said, looping his arm around Dougie's waist and bringing their mouths together.

And Christ, this kiss was anything but innocent. Dougie's hands sot up to twist into Harry's hair, tangling themselves there, as if to prevent Harry from moving away again—not that Harry had any intentions of doing anything of the sort. Harry opened his mouth, closing again over Dougie's lower lip and running his tongue over the soft flesh. He tasted a little sweetness, and some nicotine below that. Harry didn't hesitate when Dougie parted his lips, tongue chasing the taste deeper, pulling Dougie flush to his body, relishing the moan it earned him.

Their tongues twisted and pressed against each other, broken up by the nip of teeth and the sounds of sighs. Harry cupped one hand over Dougie's jaw, other still wrapped possessively around Dougie's waist. Dougie's fingers tugged and carded through Harry's hair, occasionally massaging into his neck, which made Harry groan into the smaller boy's mouth. And when Dougie's hands stilled and he felt a thumb delicately trace the scar on his scalp, Harry felt something inside him tear in two, all but gasping as he ducked his head to Kiss Dougie under the ear and work his way down his neck.

"Ahh… In the store…" Dougie began to speak, voice breathless enough to make Harry's skin feel four degrees hotter. "I… I, ah, panicked…"

Harry was only half listening, focused on sucking a mark over Dougie's pulse.

"I just… Always seemed to have this target on my back" Dougie explained, and Harry knew what he meant—Dougie was irresistible, both to the good and the bad. "I just got scared because I didn't want to make it any bigger… Was stupid…"

Dougie's hands held Harry's face to his neck and pleasured noises punctuated his breathy speech.

"M'sorry, Harry," Dougie apologized. "M'sorry."

Harry pulled away, hand coming back up to Dougie's cheek, gaze warm and full, meeting Dougie's open eyes. Harry shook his head.

"Silly Dougie" he said, leaning forward to nuzzle Dougie's face.

Dougie's nose scrunched up in distaste, but became more accepting when Harry moved on to mouth Dougie's ear lobe, teeth clicking and tugging lightly on Dougie's plug.

"Dougie… You're so… _Good_," Harry found himself whispering affectionately.

The younger boy shivered and made a soft sound before pulling their lips firmly back together. Their movements fervent now, growing more and more unrestrained by the moment as they began to back towards the bed. The sun was just starting out set outside Dougie's room, turning the light filtering into the room orange as Dougie's lizards started to become more active in their cages. Their owner was too busy to notice today, though.

The boys didn't stop when the back of Dougie's calves hit his bed, but simply followed the motion down, never parting. Dougie's fingers, palms, traveled down Harry's back, settling to clench and press into the dip in Harry's spine.

Harry moved them up the bed, Dougie wiggling up with him. Harry slipped a hand behind the nape of Dougie's neck, so he could angle his head up, allowing him to slide even deeper into Dougie's mouth, while his other hand moved down Dougie's body, hesitating only a second before slipping under his tee shirt. He felt the bassist's breath catch in his mouth, as Harry cautiously began to explore the newly discovered expanse of skin, from navel to the ridges of his ribs, counting each one. Dougie's movements, his fingers on Dougie's vertebrae, urged him on, higher, until Harry's fingertips brushed a raised nipple. Dougie actually gasped into Harry's mouth and bucked lightly underneath Harry's body.

Before Harry even though about it, his leg was slipping deliberately in between Dougie's and the other boy was grinding the obvious hardness in his jeans up against Harry's thigh.

Both their eyes flew open at the same time. Dougie's lips were parted and wet, eyes glazed over. Harry probably looked much the same. They both knew this was it. The edge of the knife. They could either stop now, or they could run head long off this cliff together. If they didn't stop now, there would be no going back.

Slowly, Dougie pushed himself up on his elbows, eyes never leaving Harry's. He tipped his head up and pressed their lips together solidly. Harry's eyelid's fell like metal shutters, squeezing tightly shut against the onslaught of the feelings tumbling around in his body, as he leaned forward, doing his part to seal them together.

They relaxed down into the mattress again, gathering momentum by the time Harry hooked his fingers under the hem of Dougie's shirt and pulled it over his head. Once Dougie was shirtless, Harry ran his hand from Dougie's sharp hip bones, all the way over his chest and up his arms, to pin his wrists loosely against the bed. He was almost surprised when Dougie didn't so much as test the restraint, just watched Harry with trust in his eyes, as the drummer dipped his head towards Dougie's chest.

The shallow rise and fall of Dougie's lungs felt beautiful against Harry's lips, and he held on to it, slowly, slowly moving across his skin—press, hold, shift, press, hold , shift, until Dougie was nearly writhing beneath him, shifting his hips up to get any semblance of friction.

"_Harry…!_"Dougie finally complained.

"Patience, Dougie," Harry jokingly scolded, but he did move lower, releasing Dougie's wrists.

Dougie's fingers carded back through Harry's hair, before moving to try and remove his shirt. Dougie forgot his goal for a moment when Harry's lips closed over his nipple and Harry was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and a soft moan. Harry lathed his tongue over the hardened nub repeatedly, feeling Dougie's hands fist against his back.

Finally Dougie relented and helped Harry pull his shirt off and let him roll them over so Dougie was straddling him. He leaned down to capture Harry's lips with his own. They made out, Harry coaxing Dougie down, until he was lying fully atop his body. They rolled like the ocean, moving together.

Harry's hand moved down, further, until he could grip Dougie's arse, more than pleased when Dougie hitched and groaned into his mouth. He repeated the motion, and again, quickly creating a slow grinding rhythm between them.

Soon Dougie was panting, brow furrowed with the heat pulsing through their bodies, erections rubbing together through the remaining layers of their clothing. Dougie's finger dug into Harry's chest and Harry knew what he wanted next. A quick roll put Dougie beneath him again.

It was easy to quickly unzip Dougie's jeans and drag them down his thighs, before the bassist even realized what was happening.

"What are you—" Dougie started, but cut off the stupid question when Harry wrapped his hand around his stiff cock.

Dougie's head fell back.

"Harry!" he cried and bucked up into Harry's hand, as Harry began to pump him steadily.

Harry felt a smile on his face, Dougie was so beautiful like this, getting desperate. It completely surprised Harry when Dougie demanded he stop.

"What?"

"S-stop," Dougie repeated, and then he looked up at Harry through half lidded eyes. "I want you to fuck me."

He just stared up at Harry levelly as he said those words and triggered a near breakdown in the drummer. It pushed him way to close to the edge. He dropped his face into Dougie's neck and groaned.

"So good, Dougie… So good…" Harry murmured against his skin, between laying down open mouthed kisses.

Dougie pawed at Harry's trousers and he simultaneously tried to wiggle the rest of the way out of his own.

"Stuff in the top drawer," Dougie said, and for once Harry didn't feel like teasing Dougie for being impatient.

Actually, Harry had already known where Dougie kept his private time items — under the music magazines in his nightstand —, as best mates did. Just like he knew the condom he pulled from the strip was the first to be removed. Dougie had messed around before, but he was still a virgin. It made Harry feel giddy and anxious at the same time. Harry wasn't a virgin—but he'd never been with a guy before. And this was _Dougie_, so it was in a category all its own.

There was an awkward teenage moment of graceless fumbling, as they momentary rolled apart so they could remove the last of their clothes. Just a few seconds later, they met in the middle again, skin against hot skin. Their hands and fingers roamed and traced and touched everything they could reach, mapping each other out for the first time. When Harry reached down to Dougie's ass again, palming before cautiously sliding a finger in between pausing when he felt a fluttering pucker against the pad of his index finger.

Dougie jerked in his arms.

"_Harry,_" he nearly whined, but it was a plea, not a complaint.

In response, Harry was groping for the lube he'd dropped on the bed. The pop of the cap was loud in the quiet of the room. Dougie stared up at Harry.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

Dougie _had _to be sure.

Dougie nodded, want and determination in his eyes.

Harry pressed a quick but deep kiss to his lips, before rolling back onto his haunches between Dougie's legs, spread open in front of him… Shy Dougie, opening himself up like this for Harry. The drummer nearly had to physically shake himself to regain focus.

Harry squeezed a liberal amount of the cold lube onto his fingers. He kissed the inside of Dougie's knees, as he waited for the lube to warm a bit, Dougie actually giggling a little and knocking lightly in the head with one of them once.

When Harry felt ready, he then lowered his hand to circle two fingers around the outside of Dougie's hole. The younger boy tensed against the chill or the foreign feeling. Either way, Harry leaned forward to press kisses into Dougie's chest, as he continued to circle below.

"You've got to relax now, Dougie," Harry murmured into his skin. "Shhh…"

Harry kept up the rambling of nonsense until Dougie's breathing slowed. Then he moved back to Dougie's mouth, so he could swallow his gasp as Harry finally slipped the tip of his finger inside of him.

Harry felt Dougie's muscles flutter around his finger and his heart sped up, thudding against his ribs, even more when Dougie relaxed and Harry could start moving in and out, a little further each time.

Dougie was whining into Harry's mouth and nipping at his lips, as Harry focused on his task, taking it unbearably slow, not wanting to cause Dougie even a moment's pain. Soon though, he was all the way in to the third knuckle. Now when Harry moved his hand back and forth, Dougie rocked his hips down to meet him, all the while making pleased noises and little sighs, that went straight to Harry's dick. Encouraged, Harry began to experiment with angle and pressure, feeling the slick heat inside Dougie's body, so caught up in the moment he forgot his own need, as it more into the simple need to see how many different kinds of noises he could coax out of Dougie.

Harry knew he hit the jack pot when the pad of his finger brushed over a small bump inside Dougie and, in response, the younger boy convulsed and cried out, chest rising and falling sharply. Harry leaned back to watch, as he repeated the motion with the same result, flush crawling further down Dougie's chest.

Harry carefully slid another finger inside along the first. Dougie tensed for a second, but he shouted Harry's name and bucked into his hand, a drop of precome dripping onto his stomach, when Harry dragged his fingers over that magic spot again. Harry's free hand settled on Dougie's hip as Harry began to target that spot in earnest, brushing it with every push and drag. A near constant keening slipped from Dougie's through as he rolled down into Harry's every movement.

By the time Harry added a third finger, Dougie's hair had begun to curl and stick to his forehead. Harry was breathing hard himself. It was all too much, eyes glued onto Dougie's blessed out face. When the bassist opened his eyes, they were ocean dark and mostly pupil, caught at half mast.

"Harry—_Harry, please,_" he was begging, Harry belatedly realized.

With a shuddery breath, Harry pulled his fingers out; Dougie moaned, arse clenching around the emptiness. Dougie's hands found his hair and pulled their mouths together as Harry fumbled for the condom, Harry's body bowed near-awkwardly over the smaller boy as the sound of ripping foil accompanied the smacking sound of lips and tongues.

Harry rolled the condom on and pulled back, nearly stopping before catching the look of pure want and _trust_ in Dougie's face. He slicked himself up with a little more lube and planted a kiss on Dougie's chest. He lined himself up, Dougie's knees bending towards his shoulders. Utter quiet settled over them, just the sound of air flooding in and out of lungs as Harry oh-so gingerly pressed his hips forward. There was a moment where Harry was convinced this was all good in theory, but there was no way this was actually going to fit, but then Dougie shifted his hips and—oh _God_—the tip of Harry's cock slipped in. A groan ripped out of Harry's throat, as Dougie's body locked up.

They both froze for a moment, just breathing, Harry reeling, sweat breaking out on his chest as Dougie adjusted. Slowly, Dougie's fingers stopped digging sharply into Harry's back and he turned his head to kiss Harry's temple. Harry got the message to continue. He started with tiny shallow thrusts, working a little deeper each time. When he was fully seated inside Dougie, he let himself revel in the feeling for a moment, forehead resting on Dougie's chest, breathing through his nose.

Harry became aware of Dougie's hands running over him, caressing his back his face.

"Harry… Harry…" it wasn't a moan or a plea though, Dougie wanted to tell Harry something.

"What…?" Harry asked, breathlessly into the hollow below Dougie's ear.

"_Save a drum, bang a drummer_," Dougie said, and Harry's heart fucking stopped.

He looked up.

He was met with the sight of Dougie's blessed smile, white teeth shining at Harry and it was just too fucking much. What had he done to deserve this? Dougie? There was no way he'd done enough.

Harry dropped his face into Dougie's neck, pulled almost all of the way out before thrusting smoothly back in. Dougie's back arched.

"_Harry!"_

"_Unngh,_" Harry groaned. "That's good, Dougie… So good…"

Slip, roll, push, slip, roll, push, they set a steady rhythm. Once Harry started speaking he didn't seem to be able to stop, whispering and moaning nonsense and praise into Dougie's neck, his ears, his mouth.

The pace began to increase of its own accord, slow pushes turning into rolling speeding thrusts, before Harry even realized what was happening. The drummer's breathing was ragged against Dougie's skin.

"Unh, ah! _Harry…. Harry!_" Dougie was murmuring, as Harry moved inside him, "Please… Please, Harry… I—I need to…"

He started to reach between them and Harry caught on, bracing himself with one elbow planted above Dougie's head, and batted Dougie's hand away with the other, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Dougie's painfully hard cock. He started stroking at the same time he angled his hips and thrust.

If Harry could record them and release the sounds Dougie made, McFLY would go double platinum over night.

Dougie lost the ability to produce anything sounding similar to the English language, besides Harry's name after that.

"Harry! Harry! Harry!"

A few stroke-and-twists later, he lost that ability too, and Harry was once again distracted by how beautiful Dougie was as his hips began to stutter and his voice broke off into a single strangled keen as he reached his breaking point.

The bed below them shook, somewhere else in the house music still played, and Dougie's fingers slid in the sweat on Harry's back, as his spine bowed and he came hotly over Harry's hand. Harry stroked him through it, all the while aware that his own overheated brain was probably dripping out of his ears. Harry kissed him, swallowing the moans triggered by Harry thrusting through his aftershocks. Harry could only hold back for so long though, so close himself.

He slipped his arm under Dougie, around his waist, to give himself leverage and began to rut into Dougie with solid, rolling movements, bottoming out with each thrust.

"Uhhhng—_Dougie!_"

With one final thrust, Harry followed Dougie into orgasm, spilling deep inside him, head thrown back, tendons in his neck visible, as Dougie sucked his own mark there. Wave after wave of intense pleasure rocked through Harry's body, like a firework show going off in every single one of his cells.

Finally, after he simmered down enough for Harry to become aware of the world once more, Harry let himself drop, half on top of Dougie, half on the bed. The bassist was smiling again. Harry could feel it against his temple as he regained his breath.

After a moment, finding it hard to breath with Harry's dead weight on his chest, Dougie pawed at Harry, until he grudgingly forced himself to roll mostly off Dougie, sliding to the bed and out of the bassist, making them both inhale sharply.

Harry pulled the condom off, tied it, and tossed it towards the bin the corner, definitely hitting Zukie's cage instead. Harry winced guiltily, but Dougie just laughed. Harry turned towards him and pulled him back into his arms.

They lay like that for a long while, basking in the glow of contentment, silent and comfortable in each other's presence. Harry's thumb raced the line of Dougie's hip bone, his head tucked below Harry's chin.

It was Dougie who finally broke the silence.

"Harry…?" he said, and Harry made a noise in his throat to show he was listening and Dougie continued, "I'm hungry."

Harry could only laugh and draw Dougie closer to his body. He looked down at Dougie's sweet face, fingers coming up to trace the line of his jaw before cupping it gently.

"Of course you are."

He pressed their lips together one last first time.

Harry cursed the time he had already wasted, but he was more than ready to start making up for it now.

Dougie was very different from Harry Judd.

Harry was all details and complexities, where Dougie was all big picture, simple abstracts and simple truths.

When Tom and Danny finally walked through the door of their shared home, they found the drummer and the bassist curled up together on the couch watching Tom's copy of Aladdin. Harry was half on his side, half on his back and Dougie lay nearly parallel with his head resting back on Harry's chest. Their fingers were laced together over Dougie's stomach.

Dougie liked it when Harry held his hand, always the perfect fit, with the brush of his thumb over Dougie's skin.

It was a credit to how comfortable the group already was to each other that Harry and Dougie didn't even make an effort to move apart when their bandmates entered the room.

Honestly, Dougie suspected Tom saw this coming since before he left, especially if the soft smile in his eyes was anything to go on. Danny on the other hand didn't seem to even possess the knowledge of the emotions surprise or shock; they only registered as glee.

"_Ay!_ Look what we've found here, Thomas!" he crowed, coming around the couch to fully observe the twined bodies. "Stumbled upon a little love nest, we have!"

Harry chucked and rolled his eyes, as Dougie tried to swat at the vocalist encroaching upon their space, sinking further back into Harry. Tom put their bags by the stairs, as Danny continued to harass their bandmates.

"_Well_, Mr. Harry Judd, quite unconventional don't you think?" Danny asked, before looking back up at Tom. "He didn't even ask us for Dougie's hand, Thomas! For shame! For shame, Mr. Judd!"

The last words were directed at Harry, and Dougie could hear Tom laughing somewhere behind the couch.

"Leave them alone, Danny," Tom chided. "And put your bags away."

Danny did let up, but of course not without a final round of clucking and poking at the boys on the sofa.

Dougie chuckled to himself when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

"What?" Harry asked, light smile audible.

"I don't know. Just happy, I guess" Dougie said.

He felt Harry's arms tighten a little around him, and the feeling pulsed even brighter when Harry leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Dougie's forehead. Dougie leaned into the touch.

Harry could fill volumes with all the little things he'd learned about Dougie Poynter.

But if you asked Dougie what he'd learned about Harry Judd, he could write his answer in a single line on a standard index card.

Though he'd prefer to carve it into the side of a mountain or paint it in the sky with stars.

For all its big, heavy meaning and life changing perfection, what Dougie Poynter learned about Harry Judd was simple:

Dougie had learned that he was in love in love with him.


End file.
